


The Way to a Man's Heart

by sunflowersailor



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Sylvain is Very Soft, but mainly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:28:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24807763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowersailor/pseuds/sunflowersailor
Summary: “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” is what Lysithea tells him when Sylvain struggles to come up with an anniversary gift for Felix that isn’t a sword. What he doesn’t expect is the food she suggests: cake. Sylvain has never known Felix to like sweets, and he reflects on what else has changed about him since their childhood.Commission for @destroymuse on Twitter
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	The Way to a Man's Heart

The gradual shift of the harsh winter wind to a lighter, fresher spring breeze is the first indication Sylvain has to start paying closer attention to the passing days, because he knows it was around this time a year ago that he’d made one of the most important decisions of his life.

Seeing as his confession to Felix had been entirely accidental, he isn’t sure exactly what day their anniversary is supposed to be. But there are various details he remembers about the day he’d let out that messy string of words expressing the feelings he’d kept tucked away during their time at the academy. The most important detail, albeit the strangest, is how the plants spanning the land between the Gautier and Fraldarius estates were beginning to peek their way out of the ground, as if they’d breached the soil for the sole purpose of hearing Sylvain finally put his emotions into sentences. When he’d written to Ingrid later to tell her about how this detail had given him the encouragement he’d needed to go through with it, she’d written him back scolding him for letting the natural processes of the changing seasons dictate his life.

And because Sylvain tends to not take Ingrid’s nagging very seriously, when he goes out that morning for a supply run and feels the warm air kiss his skin coupled with the sight of the spring foliage around the monastery, he decides tomorrow will be the day he surprises Felix with an anniversary gift.

His initial idea seems obvious: a fancy sword, crafted with enough precision to match the legendary Zoltan’s own work. Felix’s ever expanding collection would soon evolve into its own mini-armory, and it occurs to Sylvain as he’s browsing the armory that this is precisely the problem with his idea. A sword is not suitable because a sword is what anyone would get him. Sylvain is not just anyone, and even though Felix often hides his softer feelings behind barbs of steel, he understands entirely well that he means a lot to Felix. 

He understands by the way the other frets over him after a particularly difficult battle; scolding him with harsh words in contrast to the delicate way he dresses his wounds, sealed with feather-light kisses. He understands on their nightly walks, when Felix holds his hand even though his tolerance for public displays of affection is low on a good day. But the way he knows most of all is when Felix lets him lean on him with his entire fragile being, when his mind feels lost in a storm of his own shortcomings. Felix knows, when that happens, just how to push out the poisonous thoughts and replace them with whispered reassurances that help Sylvain feel like he mattered.

Stepping out of the armory and making his way toward Garreg Mach, Sylvain decides that their anniversary and his gift needs to be something that expresses his gratitude in a way that Felix would like: simple and without too much of a fuss. 

“Sylvain! Were you able to get everything?”

The low and gentle voice of Dimitri breaks him of his train of thought. He looks up from the bottom of the steps to the entrance and finds the king standing there, an arm raised in greeting and a smile on his face.

“Hey Dimitri, I got everything,” he answers, waving back with his one unoccupied arm.

They meet each other halfway, and Dimitri takes two of the bags away from him, allowing Sylvain to rest his arm. He thanks Dimitri for the welcome respite, which only causes him to shake his head.

“It’s no trouble at all,” is all he says in response. Since Sylvain knows Dimitri well, he doesn’t miss the way his voice ever so slightly trails off at the end of his sentence, an indication he has more to say but doesn’t know if he should say it.

“Is something else on your mind?”

Dimitri looks at him and shakes his head, chuckling as he does so. “Sometimes I forget how perceptive you are. But actually, that’s a question I should be asking you. You looked more pensive than I’ve ever seen you.”

Sylvain winces. Had he really been that obvious?

“There has been something, actually,” he starts off, bringing a hand behind his head. “Felix and I, we… it’s been about a year since we got together.”

Dimitri’s face immediately lights up. “Oh! That is great to hear, Sylvain. Have you got anything planned for the occasion?”

Sylvain hesitates. “Well, that’s the thing. I’ve been trying to figure out a good gift to get him. Something that’s not a sword, because Goddess knows how many of those he has.”

This pulls a laugh out of Dimitri. “You’re definitely right about that. So perhaps just a simple sparring session would be enough for him. You know how much he enjoys that.”

Sylvain groans. “But I do that with him at least weekly, it’s not special at all. Not to mention not romantic in the slightest,” he tacks on, making a mental note of the fact that Dimitri’s gift to his first crush being what it was probably doesn’t make him a reliable person to ask for help.

“While I suppose that is true, I can’t say I can think of a better — ”

“Just bake him a cake.”

The sudden voice of Lysithea startles both of them, and Sylvain glances over Dimitri’s shoulder to find the shorter woman standing with her arms folded and a light scowl to match. Her demeanor exudes impatience.

“Lysithea!” he greets, trying to keep out the surprise in his voice. “How, um, how long were you standing there?”

“The entire time. I was wondering what was taking you so long to get the supplies, you’re usually very punctual despite your flippant nature.”

Sylvain isn’t sure how to react to Lysithea’s backhanded compliment, but before he can say anything else, another thought strikes him.

“Hold on a second, Felix doesn’t even like cake. You know that, don’t you?”

Lysithea surprises him by shaking her head. “That’s not true at all. When we were students, I gave Felix some cake that used less sugar than normal. He liked it, and he even offered to try more if I ever found another recipe that worked.”

Sylvain finds himself shocked, and judging by the look on Dimitri’s face, he can hazard a guess that Felix had never told anyone about this new revelation. But it isn’t long before the shock wears off and Sylvain finds himself fighting an amused grin. Of course he never told anyone, Annette and Mercedes would never leave him alone if they knew, and Felix would shrivel from embarrassment at the attention. 

Sylvain decides that he can reflect on this new information later. Right now, Lysithea has just given him a gift in the form of the answer he’s been looking for.

“So you’re absolutely sure that this would work?”

Lysithea nods and gives him a serious look. “Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?’ If I got him to talk to me through cake, surely you can get your feelings across the same way.” 

Seeing the light sparkle of enthusiasm in Lysithea’s bright pink eyes is enough to convince Sylvain that he should at least see how the idea will play out. Although he doubts the cake alone will be enough to share even a fraction of the love and admiration he has for the other, Sylvain does know that Felix appreciates something, whether it be a weapon or dish, that was made with hard work and dedication. Sylvain plans to make sure his devotion to Felix shows through his devotion to making this cake.

“Alright Lysithea, I’ll try your suggestion out. But, I am gonna need some help. I’m not exactly a master pastry chef,” he says with a sheepish grin.

Lysithea practically beams at him. “Luckily for you, I haven’t forgotten how to make a cake, even though it’s been a few years. I’ll definitely help out.”

“It sounds like you have what you’re looking for then,” Dimitri comments, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Sylvain nods at him. “Yeah, I guess I have.”

“You won’t be joining us, Your Highness?” 

Sylvain attempts to cover up a poorly concealed snicker at Dimitri’s pained expression. 

“No Lysithea, I’m afraid I would only make things more complicated. Sylvain unfortunately knows this very well,” Dimitri sighs, giving a look that makes Sylvain feel like a knife is being pointed at him.

“Don’t you worry, Your Highness, I won’t tell Lysithea a single thing about the tart incident,” he replies in a tone that suggests he’s going to do exactly that.

Dimitri fixing him with the defeated stare of a man who has fought a thousand battles is the cue Sylvain takes to quickly change the topic before he actually starts to feel bad. Once again, Lysithea becomes his saving grace by clearing her throat to get his attention, forcing him to look away from an embarrassed Dimitri.

“Sylvain, we need to talk about details, so stop harassing His Highness and walk to the kitchen with me so we can assess what ingredients we might need.”

“Well I’ve never been one to keep a lady waiting, so I’m going to be taking my leave now. Thanks for the help, Dimitri.” 

He gives the other a bow that can only be described as cheeky, and adds a wink he knows makes him look like a complete and utter bastard. On the outside, Sylvain puts his meticulously practiced casualty on display as he meanders up the steps towards Lysithea, making sure not to go too slowly lest the woman scold him again. On the inside however, he’s brimming with an excitement rivaling Ashe’s own when they discuss the finer points of literature. 

When he imagines tomorrow, he pictures himself and Felix sitting beneath the weathered gazebo in the courtyard, the early evening rays of the sun breaching the thin, white clouds stretched across the horizon. He pictures Felix, face contorted in a soft pout that makes Sylvain’s heart beat just a little quicker each time he sees it, questioning why he was pulled from his training session. Sylvain, with all the grace of a swan gliding across a lake, would of course point to the beautifully crafted cake procured by the combined efforts of him and Lysithea, and explain everything to him. Felix being, well, Felix, would deny needing such a display of affection, hiding a rosy pink blush behind waves of navy hair cascading down his shoulders. Sylvain would brush that hair aside ever so gently, cupping his jaw with his other hand, he would lean forward until their noses were only inches apart. Whispering sweet gratitudes only meant for Felix’s ears, he would let go of everything he’s wanted,  _ needed,  _ to say to the other. Finally, when it seemed that his feelings had pierced Felix’s tough exterior, he would close the gap between them, and —

“Were you even listening to a thing I was just saying?”

Sylvain looks down in a haze at Lysithea and smiles what he’s sure is a lovestruck grin.

“Of course I was.”

+++

The first thing Sylvain sees upon stepping out of his room the next morning are fluffy, gray clouds blanketing the sky, a far contrast from yesterday’s pleasant weather.

He tries not to think of it as any type of omen, instead he only hopes they’ll disperse by the time evening arrives. It was unrealistic of Sylvain to expect the day to turn out perfectly, but he made a promise that he would try his best to make sure that it was as close as it could get. It was the least he could do after years of being less than perfect in a lot of other aspects.

Sylvain finds Lysithea already in the kitchen when he arrives, devoid of her usual elaborately designed attire and instead dressed in a plain button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair is in a ponytail with four flowery clips adorning each side. She looks up from scrutinizing over all of the ingredients to meet Sylvain’s eyes. In lieu of a greeting, she shakes her head and makes a tsking noise.

“Come here for a second,” she calls out, waving him over.

In two short strides he stands before her, awaiting her next instructions. Lysithea reaches up to her own head and unfastens two of the clips.

“What are you — ”

“Bend down a little bit, I’m going to put these in your hair. You don’t want any of it getting in the cake, do you?”

Up until this point, Sylvain has always assumed his hair was too short to be an issue. As Lysithea takes his bangs and pins them above his forehead, he finds himself extra grateful for her immaculate attention to detail, especially on an important day such as today. He’s never had any doubt about how capable she was before, but her devotion and drive had only grown in the five years he had come to know her, and it shined with a blinding excellence he found himself admiring.

Actually, the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes they’ve all changed over the past five years.

“Sylvain, can you open this bag of flour for me?”

Putting a brief hold on his nostalgia, Sylvain takes the bag from Lysithea’s hands and attempts to rip open the package, which as it turns out, is sealed tighter than he expects it to be.

“Wow, where did you buy this thing from?” he grits out, pulling even tighter. 

He remembers what happened when he, Dimitri, and Felix were children. He remembers the horror of Dimitri’s crest activating while trying to open a stubborn bag of flour like this one, the massive plume of white that covered the kitchen, the subsequent crying of a very spooked Felix. He wants to reflect fondly on those memories, he really does. But right now, Sylvain’s entire being is focused on having that very same thing  _ not _ happen to him. And right now, he’s doing a fantastic job at suppressing his own power.

So because everything is going good, something has to go wrong, because Sylvain is convinced that the Goddess had gifted him with a crest as a spit in the face to his existence. Or perhaps it’s divine punishment for laughing at Dimitri’s own misfortune. Either way, before he knows it, Sylvain finds himself being blasted in the face with the force of a fire spell, except this fire is white and significantly more powdery than fire is supposed to be. Next to him, Lysithea bursts into laughter, her hands coming up to her mouth as she giggles uncontrollably.

Sylvain is decidedly less amused by his current predicament, and he’s starting to think the clouds in the sky really are an omen of some kind. But if there’s one thing he’s learned from the ever changing tides of war, it’s to be able to adapt to any situation change, no matter if it’s a sudden bandit uprising, or a bag of flour that will inevitably make it so he has to spend more time getting ready. 

So he flashes Lysithea a winning smile and puts his hands on his hips, false confidence oozing off of him in waves. “Laugh all you want Lysithea, I happen to think white suits my complexion quite well.”

This only causes Lysithea to dissolve into another fit of giggles. “If by ‘suits your complexion’ you mean makes you look like a clown, then by all means it does.”

Sylvain only rolls his eyes at the jab. “Since when did you get so sassy?”

Now it’s Lysithea’s turn to put her hands on her hips and adopt an aura that borders on smug. “Hilda taught me some tricks to help me catch Claude off guard. But it looks like it works on you, too.”

Hearing the names of the former Golden Deer students makes Sylvain pause.

“Claude and Hilda, huh? There’s some names I haven’t heard in awhile.”

The nostalgia from earlier returns full force, this time being coupled with a strange feeling in his chest that he can’t explain.

Lysithea nods and passes Sylvain a couple of eggs to crack. “I know. It felt strange for me to say too. So much has happened since our days at the academy, and I feel like I can’t always remember what I want to. It’s frustrating sometimes.”

Sylvain, whose mind is beginning to slowly fill with hazy memories of looking past faceless girls to catch a glimpse of sharp features and midnight hair tinged with blue, only casts an understanding gaze over to her. “I know what you mean.”

They fall into a routine after that, Lysithea telling him how to measure each of the ingredients with a finesse that rival’s Mercedes’ own. The process is so efficient that they have the cake in the oven in under five minutes, and Lysithea gets to work on making the frosting.

“Actually, I was wondering about something,” she says, breaking the comfortable rhythm between them.

Sylvain gives her a quizzical look. “And that is?”

She briefly glances down and stops mixing the frosting. Her stare is suddenly a thousand miles away. Sylvain’s heart picks up in his chest, and he tries not to think about just what she could possibly be wondering about that’s made her go silent.

“It seems like a lot has changed over the past,” she starts out, nervously wringing her hands. “But Felix, he… well, it seems like there are times he still struggles. With opening up, I mean.”

An uncomfortable feeling burrows its way into Sylvain’s chest. He’s not sure if he likes the path Lysithea is leading him down.

“During our time together, I tried to get to know him better. Our initial meeting was an accident in the first place, but I thought that I might have been getting somewhere with him. But he was just so closed off that I never made any progress afterwards. I just…”

She turns to Sylvain, and although it’s subtle, there’s a sad look to her eyes that he can’t ignore.

“Has he always been like this? You know him the best out of anyone, so I figured you would be the best person to ask.”

_ Of course he hasn’t. _ That’s what Sylvain wants to say, that’s the quickest, safest answer. But it’s more complicated than just that.

Once upon a time, Felix’s eyes radiated an innocence akin to the soft, white rabbits that roamed the Fraldarius estate. Once upon a time, Felix cried at loud noises, leaving Sylvain to hold him until the sniffling died down and he could wipe away the remaining stray tears, each time thinking that Felix’s upset face was his least favorite sight apart from his own brother. Once upon a time, Felix would laugh as they sparred, then when Sylvain would fall to the ground pretending to be dead, Felix would make him promise not to actually die and leave him alone.

That’s what Felix hated the most, once upon a time. Being alone.

Now, he’s made it a part of his persona.

It started with the death of Glenn. A shining example of what a true knight should be, he was snuffed out just as quickly as he’d risen up. A hero, they’d called him. A beacon of potential, a strong, capable young man fit to serve the king.

But Glenn had another title, one more significant than any of the others, one that was scarcely mentioned at his own funeral: Brother.

Glenn was the one who taught Felix to wield a sword. Glenn was the one to lift Felix on his shoulders so he could see the knights he so earnestly looked up to as they sparred. But most importantly, Glenn taught him that he was good as Felix, not ‘Glenn’s shadow.’ That he didn’t need to live up to anyone’s expectations but his own, that just striving toward being a better version of himself was good enough.

Sylvain thinks that on the day Glenn died, Felix must have died too. Months after the tragedy occurred, he’d gone to visit the Fraldarius estate and immediately sensed the looming darkness that plagued the family within. Felix’s eyes were now dulled, as well as his demeanor. Coincidentally, the rabbits that had once roamed the estate seemed to disappear as well.

Sparring was never the same, either. Felix’s movements were quick and unforgiving, his words were now as sharp as the blade he wielded. It got to the point where he asked Sylvain to stop sparring all together. Although his words hurt just as bad as getting knocked down by him, Sylvain understood his request. He understood that it would take Felix a long time to recover, and if he needed to process his grief some other way, Sylvain would let him take it at his own pace.

What an idiot he was, for thinking Felix could transfer the magnitude of his grief onto a couple of training dummies. What an idiot he was, for spending more of his time chasing skirts than trying to help Felix cope, leaving him to do it alone more often than not.

“My apologies, did I ask something too personal?”

Lysithea’s voice brings him back to reality, but it doesn’t take him away from the self-loathing.

“No, it’s just… it’s kind of difficult for me to explain. He used to be really carefree when we were kids, but his brother died,” he says, taking note of Lysithea’s shocked expression. “And ever since then, it’s been a struggle for him to open back up. Actually, I’m surprised to hear that he opened up enough to you to start eating sweets, which means somewhere along the line…”

_ Somewhere along the line, he started to get better, no thanks to me _ . 

“Well, the point is, he hasn’t always been like this, and he’s gotten better recently. I have a feeling it’s because people like you were persistent with talking to him, and it helped him realize others care.”

_ Like how I should have been. _

“You act as if you had no part in helping him.”

Sylvain’s self-loathing is paused. “Huh?”

Lysithea shrugs as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You mention how others helped him, but based on what I saw, I feel like you helped significantly.”

“Based on what you saw? What does that mean?” 

“The times that I saw you two together were the only times I ever saw him display any other emotion besides indifference or annoyance. Then after I joined your class, it became more apparent that you were the one that he relied on the most when communicating. This is purely from an observational standpoint, of course.”

Sylvain is acutely aware of the warmth in his chest, but it’s still at odds with the bad thoughts that plague his mind.

“I mean, yeah, I guess I was there. But, I know I should’ve done more. I spent so long paying attention to my own selfish needs that I wasn’t always there when I should’ve been. It took me until the day after Garreg Mach fell and we were going to be separated for a long time to realize that I needed to do more. If only I could’ve — ”

“Stop.”

This time, his thoughts are completely put on a halt. “I’m sorry?”

Lysithea shakes her head in frustration. “You’re far too hard on yourself, Sylvain, it’s irritating. So you made a few mistakes in the past, everyone has something they regret. But you’re working on becoming a better person for him, right?”

The warmth in his chest becomes a small flame. “Of course I am.”

“And you love him, right?”

The flame becomes a roaring blaze. “More than anything on this Earth.”

Lysithea nods, satisfied. “That’s what’s important. You can’t change the past, but you can always change the future.”

Sylvain has never been excited about the future. It shows in the way he battles recklessly, never quite paying attention to the thin line between life and death, always balancing precariously between the two. That’s how it was anyway, until a hand, marred with callouses from extensive training sessions, had firmly pulled him back. Whispers of their childhood promise breathed life back into him, made him want to keep trying, because he could never forgive himself if he let down the one person who loved him more than he loved himself.

Sylvain doesn’t dread the future as much as he used to. Not when waking up next to his best friend every single day is a possibility. Not when they can share slow, sweet kisses bathed in moonlight if they so desired. Not when, very slowly but surely, the spark that once was present in Felix’s eyes is beginning to come back, and Sylvain wants to dedicate his energy to making sure it returns to what it once was.

Even if it takes the entire rest of his life, he wants to make sure their future overshadows their past.

“You’re right Lysithea, I’m going to do just that.”

And the moment is almost perfect, if not for the distinct smell of burning that suddenly hits Sylvain’s nose.

The pair barely make eye contact before both rush towards the oven with a speed rivaling a lightning strike, Sylvain throwing the door open and sticking his hands in to grab the tray the currently burning cake rests upon. It takes him all of two seconds to realize the massive mistake he’s just made, and he rips his hands out of the oven, letting out a yelp.

“Sylvain, you idiot!” Lysithea shouts in a panic, rushing forward — having actually put gloves on, when did that happen? — to retrieve the cake. She sets the cake down on the counter, rips one glove off, and begins a healing spell to soothe Sylvain’s burnt skin. Relief floods him as the magic envelops his hands, making him sigh.

Lysithea only shakes her head for what seems like the millionth time that day. “It’s no wonder Felix frets over you the way he does, with you going and doing impulsive things like that,” she says, checking over her work once more before turning back and assessing the cake.

Sylvain smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky with him.”

Lysithea begins the process of frosting the cake, spreading extra thick layers across the more charred parts. “You obviously have qualities that he admires, there’s no need to downplay yourself. Anyway,” she continues, not leaving any room for Sylvain to argue, “The cake isn’t completely ruined, only a few parts are charred. I put enough frosting on to hopefully disguise the taste. I wish we could remake it but there’s no more flour,” she says with a small huff of frustration.

Sylvain waves a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, Lysithea. I should be going soon to get ready anyway, now that I need the extra time,” he says, trying not to cringe at the amount of flour he’s going to need to remove from his hair.

“Okay. I’ll be sure and give the cake to you after you’re done, then go get Felix, just like we talked about. And you’re sure he won’t go into the kitchen before then?”

Sylvain shakes his head. “Annette and Ashe have been keeping him busy this entire time, I already told them what to do.”

“Okay, I trust you. Now go!” she says, shooing him away.

Sylvain only laughs. “Alright, alright, I’m going!” he says, half-jogging towards the exit. He stops for a brief second. “And Lysithea? Thanks. It really means a lot to me that you helped.”

A smile slowly works its way to her face, her cheeks becoming rosy. “Of course.”

+++

The evening air is punctuated with a slight chill, the clouds from earlier turning from the soft gray of Ashe’s hair to a worrying shade of smoke. It would be dark if not for the various candles Sylvain had set in the middle of the table as a replacement for the sun not being out. If he and Lysithea hadn’t spent the time and effort they did making the cake earlier, he would consider rescheduling this whole thing. But despite everything, he’s determined to make this night one that they’ll remember well past the age people begin to forget things.

The light button up shirt he’d chosen earlier works just fine for him, seeing as he prefers the cold over the heat. But he can’t help but worry about how Felix might fare since he’s never been good with the cold despite having lived his entire life in Faerghus. Perhaps he should have brought an extra jacket, just in case. There was still some extra time to go back and grab one.

“Just a little bit further this way, Felix!”

Or maybe there wasn’t.

He straightens up stiffly in his chair and tries not to run his hand nervously through his hair. As their footsteps grow closer, he feels his heart pick up in his chest. All of today’s troubles are about to be worth it, he reminds himself. Sylvain would cover himself in flour and burn his hands a thousand times over if it meant Felix would be happy.

“Lysithea? Where are you going?”

“Just keep walking until you get to the gazebo. You can trust me, Felix!”

And then all too quickly, Felix rounds the corner freezes, making eye contact with Sylvain.

“Sylvain?”

The greeting Sylvain practiced nearly a hundred times dies on his lips, his eyes trained on the man standing in front of him.

Felix is dressed in his usual attire, but with one significant change: his hair has been braided, which is most likely Annette’s doing, and the braid is peppered with tiny, white flowers. One slightly bigger one is tucked behind his ear, an orchid, which Dedue told him symbolizes love. His eyes have softened as he looks at Sylvain in equal parts confusion and curiosity. 

And Sylvain… well, Sylvain doesn’t think he’s truly known the definition of ‘ethereal’ until right now. 

It takes him a minute to remember how to speak, and he clears his throat. “Felix, your hair…”

Felix’s hand slowly goes up to his hair, and he breaks eye contact with Sylvain. “Yeah, Annette did it for me. I’m still not sure why… wait a second,” — his gaze moves toward the slices of cake on the table — “is that a cake? What’s going on here?”

Sylvain tears his gaze away from Felix, looks at the cake that he’s completely forgotten about until now, then looks back up. “Felix, do you remember what happened around this time a year ago? Between you and me?”

Luckily, with Felix being as sharp as he is, it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out. Sylvain can tell he knows based on the way he shyly looks at the ground, attempting to cover the growing blush. “It wouldn’t happen to be when you confessed to me, would it?”

Sylvain smiles fondly. “Right. I wanted to surprise you, so I didn’t tell you about it.”

“You didn’t need to — ”

“But I wanted to,” Sylvain says, firmly cutting him off. “Felix, I… I just want to show you how much you mean to me. I know I haven’t done the best job of that in the past, so I want to do it right this time. You deserve it.”

Sylvain slowly stands up, feels warmth spread through every inch of his body, and makes his way over to his lover. He gently cups Felix’s face and leans in, takes in every miniscule scar that lines his jaw, takes in the way his dark brown eyes reflect Sylvain’s own smitten face back at him, takes in the way the curve of his frown softens just a little bit, threatening to break into a tiny smile.

“You deserve the world,” Sylvain whispers, placing their foreheads together.

This time, Felix does actually smile, and Sylvain catches a glimpse of the Felix from his childhood, just for a second.

“You’re embarrassing,” he says, and the fondness in his voice makes Sylvain feel like he’s floating.

Sylvain presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “Only for you.”

He pulls his head away from Felix’s then, and motions him over to the table. “Come over here and sit down, I want you to try the cake I made. Lysithea told me all about your little sweet tooth adventures five years ago, I’m a little hurt you never told me quite frankly,” he says with a mock pout.

Felix snorts at that and takes his place. “I can’t believe she remembered that, I hardly remembered myself. So, am I to assume that the cake is going to be light on the sugar then?”

Sylvain grins, brimming with excitement. “Try it for yourself.”

Felix takes the fork placed at his spot and cuts a small piece from the pre-cut slice. Sylvain has never been one to pray, but as Felix places it in his mouth, he finds himself asking the Goddess that Felix not taste any of the more charred parts.

Felix’s face scrunches up almost immediately, which is how Sylvain knows his prayer has failed.

“Why does this taste so burnt?”

Sylvain hangs his head down in defeat, but he can’t help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of something he imagined going so well ending up going so horribly wrong. Or perhaps the day’s events have finally gotten to him, and he’s gone insane. It certainly seems like it’s the latter, given how Felix is looking at him.

“Oh Felix, if only you knew the half of it,” he manages to say as his laughter begins to die down. “Anyway, sorry it didn’t turn out any good. Guess I kinda ruined this, didn’t I?”

Sylvain expects a lot of reactions from Felix, but the one he doesn’t expect is the other leaning forward and placing a kiss on his cheek, which is the one Felix goes with.

“It’s obvious that you worked hard on it, which I appreciate. I’m glad you tried your best for me.”

If there was one thing that Sylvain can feel good about, it’s the fact that he was right about Felix valuing hard work above all else. He’s at least glad he can give Felix that, if nothing else. Not to mention, getting a kiss despite his failure is not a bad deal at all.

“As much as I like what you’ve done,” Felix murmurs, catching Sylvain off guard. “It might be best if we finish this inside. I think it’s going to rain in a few minutes.”

And of course, there needs to be a grand finale to the disastrous day Sylvain has had, which means that the second the words leave Felix’s mouth, it does begin to rain. And it doesn’t just rain, because that would be too simple. The drops start off light, tap dancing against the roof of the gazebo. But within a few minutes it becomes a downpour, one of the biggest ones Garreg Mach has seen in awhile.

Again Sylvain finds himself laughing at his misfortune, and this time Felix joins in with snickers of his own. Was this the perfect day Sylvain had imagined? Not by a long shot. Were they going to remember this day for the rest of their lives? Definitely. 

With their laughter now beginning to die down, Sylvain turns to look at Felix, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’ve always wanted to make out in the rain,” he says with the subtlety of a wyvern trying to sneak through an open field.

Felix only rolls his eyes. “You’re disgusting.”

“But you didn’t say no.”

Although it’s subdued, Felix reflects the same mischievous glint back at him. “I guess I didn’t, did I?”

“Hey Felix?”

“Hm?”

Sylvain leans forward and kisses him deeply this time, gently placing his hands on Felix’s hips as Felix does the same to him.

“Happy anniversary.”

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: peachh_boy  
> Tumblr: peachh-boy


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